AN ISLAND, A LIGHTHOUSE, ROOTS

Night train towards the North. A bus and a ferry to the landscapes of mist and rain. A small trip to see where my grandfather's mother was born. The thick clouds disappearing from the island, the sun tickling, wind calming down. Beautiful music festival just by the lighthouse. Sunset by the beach listening to the waves.

Middle of the island a village with kind people, good food, tiny piglet and a goat that became a mother for an orphan calf. Light violet harebell meadows everywhere. Sunshine on shoulders, a birch branch to keep the insects away.

Traditional houses painted with Falu red, flea markets and the scent of bent-in-the-wind Scots pines in sunshine.

Afternoon walk in the warm sea.

With a friend. With sun tan.

Evening walk.

Sunset and the songs of seagulls and terns. The horizon disappearing.

Sleeping next to the lighthouse and dreaming of the times when my grandfather's mother lived here. Maybe now I understand why I dream of islands and the blinking towers.

Summer trips with never setting sun.

Greetings from the island!

And warm and sunny July to you!